


Let love in

by keine_angst



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alfie is bad with kids but still better than Tommy, Domestic Fluff, Feel-good, Heartwarming, M/M, Tommy/Alfie/Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, canon divergence from season 4, this is the cutest thing you'll read today I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24641992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keine_angst/pseuds/keine_angst
Summary: Charlie would sometimes come to his bedroom in the morning to just sit in his bed - particularly when he had a bad dream. And it seemed he had one, his arms were trembling, his breath faint, knees weak. But now, when there was a guest Tommy’s bed, Charlie didn’t feel safe to rest there anymore.(5 times Charlie doesn't know how to call Alfie and the time when he figures it out)
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	Let love in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strawberriez8800](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriez8800/gifts).



> for being the loveliest person out there and helping me a lot! Thank you <3
> 
> This is an AU where Alfie chooses not to betray Tommy (again) in season 4 - instead, they develop a relationship.

Tommy had been betrayed by Alfie twice - the second time his betrayal almost took Charlie away from him. He had no reason to feel the slightest bit of sentiment towards him, yet when his life started getting out of hands again, Alfie was the first person he thought of contacting. 

His wife was dead. His brother was dead. His entire family was in danger - and they didn’t deserve it. Tommy was desperate to do anything to provide them protection. Even if it meant reuniting with his old enemy. 

When Alfie appeared in his life again, Tommy grasped at straws and accepted his helping hand - let him into his - and Charlie’s - life. 

Over time, Alfie learnt to deal with Tommy’s ups and downs. But with Charlie, well - that was something different. Alfie Solomons knew lots of things, but taking care of children was an uncharted territory for him. 

But he was eager to learn - mostly for Tommy. And for the lad, too, because Charlie was the only reason why Tommy hadn’t given up his fight yet - and even for that alone, Alfie owed him some care. Not to mention that Tommy might’ve lost his son due to a bad decision Alfie had made - he felt the need to repay for that, prove he was a better man. 

  
  


I

Alfie came to meet Tommy at Arrow House. On his way he thought of some words to express his condolences - he’d heard that John had recently passed away - that was the reason why Tommy needed him again. To join forces. But as soon as he saw Tommy, devastated and vulnerable - contrary to how Shelby would normally present himself, self-assured and professional, no matter how hard it gets - he forgot what he was to say. They were sitting in silence, interrupted only by loud drags Tommy was drawing from his cigarette, for a good ten minutes, before Shelby put himself together and explained his plan.

So there it was - they had reunited. No matter what had happened before, they shook hands and made a deal. And this time, Alfie thought, he wouldn’t betray Tommy. 

Just as he was to leave, they hear a shy knock at the door. “Come in,” Tommy yelled, thinking it was Frances or someone from the staff. 

It turned out he was wrong. A little boy walked into the drawing room and stood paralysed as he noticed his dad wasn’t alone. Alfie didn’t know much about children, but having done some quick calculations in his head he assumed the boy was around the age of three, even though at a rough guess he would say he was even younger - he was small and thin, skinny almost, and his round, blushed face didn’t match his elegant clothes - why did Tommy make him wear them at home, he had no idea. 

“What’s wrong, Charlie?” Tommy asked, and though he sounded caring, Alfie could tell he wasn’t too happy his son interrupted them. “Come here,” Shelby patted his knee, “you need something from me?”

The boy hesitated a moment more before deciding to come closer. Tommy lifted him and seated him on his lap. Alfie couldn’t help but gaze at this picture - Tommy as a father, in this domestic setting. Charlie didn’t resemble his dad - he must’ve inherited his look from his mother - Alfie had never met her, but he saw her photographs in the house.

“What is it, Charlie?” Tommy asked again, but the boy was too shy to answer in Alfie’s presence - it seemed he was intimidated by the stranger and didn’t even dare to look in his direction. He hugged his dad with his slender arms and whispered something to his ear. “Oh, don’t be,” Tommy replied, stroking Charlie’s shoulder, “let’s say hello, shall we? This is my associate, Mr. Solomons. Say hello, Charlie.”

But his son didn’t breathe a word, still grasping at his father’s arms with his tiny hands, pressing his face to Tommy’s chest, like he was trying to disappear. “Don’t be scared,” Shelby said once again.

“That’s fine,” Alfie cut in, not willing to scare the kid even more, because Charlie clearly didn’t feel comfortable in his presence - and he wasn’t to blame, he just couldn’t fathom what was going on. _He was a child, after all_. “I’ll have to go, Tommy.”

Charlie suddenly turned in his direction and gave him the most fearless look a three-year-old could give as he said, “Hello, Mr.-” and stopped, his lips parted - he must’ve forgotten his name already. Only now did Alfie see Tommy in him - holding his head up, his blue eyes darting at him like he could see through him - and this realisation was confusing to him. _Solomons_ , Tommy prompted him in a whisper, and so Charlie finished, “Mr. Solomons.”

“Hello, lad,” Alfie answered, amused by the seriousness in Charlie’s voice and a smile in the corner of Tommy’s lips, “how are you doing?”

II

“Nah, mate, leave it,” Alfie demanded, maybe a little too harsh - Charlie looked at him with consternation on his childish, angelic face. He was sitting on a sofa in Tommy’s drawing room, watching Charlie play with his toys on the carpet, and everything was fine, until the boy decided it would be so much fun to play with his shoelaces instead. “Oi! Don’t do it, won’t you?”

Tommy had left Charlie in Alfie’s care twenty minutes earlier, having said he was going to come back soon - Arthur had arrived to meet him and _of course_ he denied to see Alfie. _Poor Arthur_ , Alfie thought, _if only he knew what his brother had been doing recently. He would lose it._ Solomons was trying his best to take care of the kid, but he had no experience of dealing with children, and so he failed miserably. It seemed Charlie was about to start crying, and Alfie couldn’t let it happen - Tommy trusted him, believed he could leave his son with him, he didn’t want to let him down.

“Come ‘ere, lad,” he said, extending his arm to reach Charlie. The boy hesitated for a second before pressing his small hand into Alfie’s palm - although Solomons was a frequent guest in Arrow House, he still was almost a stranger to him. “Take the toys and come sit with me. My back won’t let me play on the floor with you.” 

Charlie nodded and brought his toys to put them on a sofa. “Where’s dad?” he asked shyly, choosing a figurine of a trooper on a horse - of course, he inherited the love for those animals from his father.

“That, I’d like to know, too,” Alfie answered, “he’s busy now, but he’ll be back,” he assured, “but for now, we can play together, don’t we?”

Charlie didn’t answer, preoccupied by pretending his toy soldier was galloping along the armrest. Alfie noticed he did that frequently - disconnected himself from the world, ignored what was happening around him - he must’ve learnt to act like this, since Tommy was often too busy to take care of him and Charlie had to be his own company. 

“You like ‘orses, don’t you?” Alfie tried to talk to him a little, not to let the boy get lost in his own head, “dad takes you to stables with him?”

“Mhm,” Charlie mumbled, still focused on his toy. Alfie didn’t want to interfere, since it seemed he prefered not to talk to him - which was understandable, he didn’t know Alfie at all, probably forgot his name already, so he left him alone and let him play. 

Tommy came back several minutes later. His frown indicated his conversation with Arthur hadn’t gone particularly well. He sat down next to Alfie and brushed his lips against his temple - almost unnoticeably, not to draw Charlie’s attention to them - his son had never seen them showing any sort of affection towards one another. _He doesn’t have to know,_ Tommy said when Alfie confronted him about that matter, _not_ _yet, at least._

“You behaved yourself, Charlie?” he asked, looking at his son, who didn’t even raise his eyes as he walked in. “Did he?” he turned to Alfie, when he didn’t get any response. 

Before Alfie could answer, however, Charlie spoke up. “Dad,” he sounded very serious, “why is _he_ here?”

Alfie swallowed hard at that - the boy certainly had a hard time getting used to his presence at his home, but he never expressed it this clearly. He suddenly started feeling like a waste of space, unwelcome and useless. 

“It’s not _he_ , it’s Mr. Solomons, Charlie,” Tommy said, giving Alfie an apologising gaze, “you don’t like him here?”

Charlie just shrugged and jumped off the sofa. He collected his toys and looked at his dad briefly before announcing, “I want to go to the stables.”

“We’ll go there in a moment, Charlie,” Tommy promised, “put your toys back in your room and we’ll go then.”

As soon as his son walked out of the room, Tommy kissed Alfie on the mouth - he had been waiting for this the entire day, but Charlie’s presence precluded it before. “I’m sorry he’s like that,” he said as he withdrew, “it’s hard for him to accept what’s happening.”

“Right, right,” Alfie replied, thumbing the nape of Tommy’s neck, “he needs some time.”

  
  


III

The next time Alfie was going to Birmingham, he made sure to bring something for Charlie with him. 

It turned out to be a more difficult task that he had initially thought. He was wandering through the shops all around London, thinking what gift could he get for him for the entire afternoon. The problem was - Charlie had _everything_ \- Tommy’s money could provide him whatever he would ask for. The only things he lacked were love and care. 

But he had to make up his mind and pick something. He’d chosen a nice little stuffed horse - Charlie probably had a dozen of these already, but for a kid his age it wasn’t that much of a difference - he would accept the gift either way. Alfie felt the need to do something to make the boy like him - him and Tommy had become a _serious_ thing, Charlie had to start noticing it. Not that he cared too much, but it would be nice if Charlie could stop making a wry face every time he got to see him. 

When he arrived in Birmingham, Tommy greeted him at the doorstep with Charlie. “Come in, the dinner is waiting,” he said, giving him a brief, friendly hug. Alfie wished he could kiss him - he had missed him so much for the past two weeks when they hadn’t seen each other. _There will be a time for that too, later this evening,_ he thought, following the host to the dining room. 

After the dinner he offered Charlie the gift. The boy accepted the package and impatiently unwrapped the box with a toy in it. He stared at the horse for good fifteen seconds, before looking up at Alfie. 

Tommy clicked his tongue. “What do we say when we get a gift?”

Charlie clenched his hands at the toy he had been given. “Thank you, Mr. -”

“Nah, stop with that,” Alfie cut in, “just call me Alfie, won’t you?”

Charlie glanced at him, then at his father, as if he was waiting for his approval, and at Alfie again. “Alfie,” he said, unnecessarily prolonging the vowels. 

Solomons smiled at that. “That’s better.”

  
  


After putting Charlie to bed, Tommy joined Alfie in the bedroom. He let his hands roam over Alfie’s chest and back as they were kissing, tentatively and messily, savouring the moment of intimacy they could share at last. 

“He had his birthday last week,” Tommy said as he finally broke the kiss, making himself comfortable in Alfie’s embracement, “he turned four. How did you know?”

“I did not,” Alfie answered, according to the truth - he had no idea, Tommy never mentioned it. 

“Well, let’s pretend you did know that,” Shelby said, “he was really miserable that day. I asked him what he would like to get. _I want my mom back,_ he told me.”

_His mom_. Out of everything he could possibly ask for, he asked for the only thing he couldn’t get. 

  
  
  


IV

“Alfie,” Tommy murmured, his eyes half-closed, “I need to check on Charlie.”

“Shh, just rest,” Alfie replied, slipping a pillow under his head, “you’ve got enough for one day, haven’t ya? He’ll be fine.”

It’s been a harsh day, for sure. Tommy’s plan had failed and instead of protecting Arthur, they got into a trap and Michael almost had been shot by the Italians. Alfie had arrived at Arrow House several hours ago, thinking he would meet Shelby there, but Tommy had just arrived back home, stressed out and exhausted. He needed some sleep - he was too tired to even kiss Alfie when he greeted him at the doorstep, which had never happened before. His sense of dignity didn’t let him be carried upstairs, but he had to accept Alfie’s helping hand anyways to make it to the bedroom. Alfie assisted him with getting undressed and let Tommy stretch out on the bed, before joining him there and placing a wet kiss on his forehead.

“I promised Charlie I’ll be there for him,” Tommy said, cuddling to Alfie trustfully, “he told me he has dreams, sometimes,” he added in whisper, “about his mom.”

“Does he even remember her at all?” Alfie asked, careful not to interrogate Tommy too much about that - Shelby wasn’t fully over his wife’s death yet, “wasn’t he very young when she passed away, was he?”

“I don’t think he remembers her specifically,” Tommy replied, bracing on his elbow to reach Alfie’s lips for a kiss, “he just knows something’s wrong. Someone’s missing. And he doesn’t understand, and I cannot explain this to him.”

_Perhaps it would’ve helped if he had a loving, caring father_ , Alfie thought, _he wouldn’t have to think about his mother_. He decided not to comment on that - Tommy wasn’t a model parent, but at least he tried.

“He’ll forget about ‘er,” he assured Tommy, who leaned back to the pillows, “go to sleep, love, I’ll check on ‘im.”

It was late at night already. Walking into Charlie’s bedroom, Alfie thought he was going to see him sleeping, but the boy was awake, curled up on a side of his bed, breathing heavily. In the moonlight Alfie noticed the tears on his cheeks, when he turned his face in his direction. 

“Charlie? You fine, lad?” he asked, even though it was clear that something was wrong - the child’s eyes surveyed him as he approached and sat on the side of his bed. He couldn’t tell if Charlie got used to his presence and did he feel comfortable when he was around - he had been a frequent guest at Arrow House for a few months now and it seemed Tommy’s son accepted him being here, but he still couldn’t figure out why some man had appeared in his dad’s life and had taken his mother’s place. Alfie prayed that he wouldn’t ask about that, because he couldn’t think of an answer that would make any sense to this child. 

“S’everything alright?” he asked again, and he tried to pat on Charlie’s shoulder to comfort him a bit, but the boy moved away from his touch and turned his back at him. Now, that wasn’t something Alfie expected - Charlie was angry, as angry as a four-year-old could possibly be. “Talk to me, won’t ya? What’s wrong?” 

Charlie’s face was pressed against the pillow, and Alfie could barely understand him replying, “I want to see my dad.”

“Your dad went to sleep, he was too tired,” Alfie explained, but Charlie didn’t want to listen, quietly repeating _I want to see him_ while he was talking, “listen, he loves you, alright? Don’t you ever doubt it. I know you’ve waited for ‘im, but he had a bad day. You’ll see him tomorrow. Now, if there’s something wrong, tell me.”

Charlie turned in his direction and gave him the most hateful gaze he could pull off. _Tommy’s blood is showing_ , Alfie thought. “No,” the boy said, “you’re not my dad.”

“I’m not,” Alfie nodded, “I’m not trying to replace him, am I? I’m just trying to help him. Help you.”

Charlie’s eyes were fixed at him, as he replied, “you’re not my mom either.”

The way he said that - viciously, with hatred ringing in every word - made Alfie forget that he had a child in front of him. He couldn’t help but getting more serious.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t ya? Let’s talk like men, then,” he said. “I know I’m a poor replacement. Both for you and for your dad. And I know your mother would take care of you - and of him, your dad that is - better than I can. But she’s not there. I am. And you, my lovely boy, have a choice ‘ere, don’t you? You can either act like that, all bratty and nasty, or consider accepting that it is what it is, like a man. You think your mum would be happy to see you’ve chosen the first option?”

There was a minute of silence after that, during which Alfie cursed himself in his mind that he hadn’t bitten his tongue and left Charlie alone - and then he heard quiet sobs, as Charlie covered his face with his hands. _He really did cross the line_. This kid didn’t understand half of his words, why did he even bother to say all that? How was he supposed to calm him down now? If Charlie had started to accept him, he ruined it now with his reckless words. 

“Needn’t have said that, sorry,” he mumbled, but the boy’s crying became louder, and he had no idea what to do to ease him. _Tommy would know what to do._ But Tommy was asleep and he didn’t intend to wake him up. “Look, Charlie, I don’t want you to cry. Go to sleep.” 

“You’re _evil_ ,” Charlie spat, his tiny arms all trembling with angry helplessness, “you’re just like dad.”

_Just like Tommy_ . The kid was right - he was _evil_ . He had done things this boy couldn’t even imagine - and his dad had done them, too. Charlie might have had a vague idea that Tommy was a bad man, but Alfie couldn’t possibly guess what made him say that. _Had he seen Tommy coming back home, all covered in blood? Or had he witnessed his dad shooting someone? Beating to death? It wasn’t impossible, was it?_

“Yes,” he said, standing up, “I ain’t good, Charlie.”

Alfie gave up trying to comfort Charlie - he clearly needed some time alone. Or with someone he trusted, and neither him, nor Tommy, were the right people to help him now. 

He came back to Tommy’s bedroom and slipped into the bed, quietly, not to wake up his lover. 

  
  


V

Loud knock at the door. 

“Fuck off, Frances,” Tommy exclaimed, holding back a laugh. Alfie was on top of him, providing him some slow, morning sex, and buried his mouth in the curve of Tommy’s neck not to burst into laughter, too. 

However, both of them gasped when they heard a voice issuing from behind the door. “Dad?,” Charlie said. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tommy mumbled. There was no way they were going to just stop right where they were, he could feel his orgasm coming, he wouldn’t last much longer. “Wait a second, Charlie!” he yelled. Alfie’s hand covered his mouth, not to let him groan out loud as he sped up his thrusts. 

“Is the door even locked?” he asked in a whisper, knotting his hand with Tommy’s hair. The man beneath him nodded, grasping at his shoulders. “Good, then,” Alfie added, not too happy that they had been interrupted - he loved lazy sex in the morning, and so did Tommy. 

A few more thrusts and Tommy reached the edge, crying out a moan into Alfie’s palm. The headboard slammed loudly against the wall as Alfie pulled off to jerk himself off at Tommy’s chest. Unfortunately, there was no time to gloat over the blissful feeling, so he kissed Shelby’s lips sloppily before standing up to get dressed. Tommy cleaned up hurriedly and put on his trousers and just as Alfie came back to bed, fully clothed now, he opened the door. 

_It wasn’t locked. Of fucking course._

“Come in, Charlie,” he invited him inside. The boy entered the bedroom, but as he noticed Alfie laying there in bed, he backspaced immediately. “What do you need?”

Tommy squatted to face Charlie, and the boy whispered something to his ear. “Of course you can,” Tommy said, lifting up his son, “you don’t have to ask.”

Charlie would sometimes come to his bedroom in the morning to just sit in his bed - particularly when he had a bad dream. And it seemed he had one, his arms were trembling, his breath faint, knees weak. But now, when there was a guest Tommy’s bed, Charlie didn’t feel safe to rest there anymore. 

But Tommy didn’t think much about that, bringing Charlie with him and placing him on his pillow. The boy turned his back at Alfie - it had been almost two months since that night when Charlie got angry at him, and they never made up after that.

Alfie had told Tommy about it in the morning the next day. _That’s fine,_ Tommy said to his surprise, _he often gets angry like that. You don’t have to worry, he won’t hate you for that. He won’t even remember after a few days._

But the time had passed, and Charlie still held some kind of grudge - he had been silently ignoring Alfie every time he was staying at Arrow House, not answering when he tried to talk to him. And Alfie gave up - he didn’t have to bother to make this kid like him, did he? He tried his best, but in the end, he was in love with this boy’s father and that was the only thing that mattered to him. If Charlie needed some time, he was willing to give it to him. 

“Bad dream?” Tommy asked, having sat on the mattress between Charlie and Alfie. A nod. “About mom again?” A quiet _no_. “Not too talkative today, are we?”

Charlie cuddled up to his father, embracing him with his skinny arms. Tommy tousled his hair with one hand, and pressed the other into Alfie’s palm. There was something incredibly intimate about this gesture and Alfie wished he could kiss him just now, but Charlie - Charlie was too close, and the last thing he needed was to witness them having a moment. 

“You won’t tell me what your dream was about, then?” Tommy asked, and his son shook his head. “That’s okay, you’re awake, everything is fine,” he assured Charlie, who was grasping almost painfully at his forearm, “you’re hungry? Should we go downstairs for breakfast?”

Charlie wondered for a moment with his answer. “Yes,” he said flauntingly, “will uncle Alfie go with us?”

_Uncle Alfie._ That was the most friendly Charlie has ever been to him. Alfie couldn’t help but smile at Tommy’s disorientated expression. He squeezed the younger man’s hand firmly to make him look at him. 

“Will you?” Tommy asked as their eyes met. _Fuck it,_ Alfie thought, and he leant to kiss Tommy’s forehead. His hair still smelt of sleep and sex, and wasn’t it just the most delicious scent to Alfie. 

“ ‘Course I will,” he replied. 

  
  


+

  
  


“Dad?”

Alfie looked at Charlie, barely awake in his bed, who lifted his arm and grabbed him by his wrist. He had come to wake him up for his violin lesson - Tommy had left home early that morning, telling him he wouldn’t come back before lunch, so Alfie was in charge of taking care for Charlie up until then. 

“It’s not your dad,” he said, freeing his hand from the boy’s grip, “it’s just me.” 

“Dad,” Charlie repeated, deadpan. 

Only now did it occur to Alfie that Charlie was not, in fact, mistaking him for Tommy through his half-closed eyelids. He _meant_ what he said. _Fuck_. 

“Don’t call me that, kid,” he demanded, weird feeling of helplessness growing inside him, “I’m not your father, am I?”

_Exactly, was he?_

He had been scared that this day was going to come. The day when Charlie, whose mother had passed away so long ago that he couldn’t even remember her, and who he had been taking care of for the past year or so along with Tommy, would figure out that he was like a father to him. It was scary - he hadn't fully got used to the affection he has been receiving from Tommy yet, he wasn’t prepared for this little kid to show him he cared, too. 

  
  
  


Alfie told Tommy about it when he came back home. And he laughed. Thomas Shelby, beaming like an idiot at his words. 

“I’m happy to hear that,” he confessed, giving Alfie a firm hug, “I love you so much.”

  
  
  


It took him some time to get used to it. To not only have the most beautiful man in the world as his lover, but also an amazing, even if bratty and handful sometimes, kid that he considered his son. To have a family, for the first time in his life. 

And one day, Alfie Solomons, who had called himself a Wandering Jew once, decided he was done searching a place where he belonged - he’s found one.

**Author's Note:**

> [say hi to me on tumblr](https://keine-angst.tumblr.com)


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